. . . with a little help from my friends

As I marked the one-year anniversary of my Mother's passing, I'm pleased to say that I felt happy. Happy that I know she is alive and well--vibrant and healthy, happy to be safe in the knowledge that she is not far away and that I will be with her again, and mostly happy that it is not one year ago. And one more thing I know for sure: Mom would want me to be happy.

I have also felt the strength of the Savior's injunction to "mourn with those who mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort." Knowing that many of you were joining me in the Bread Brigade (so dubbed by Jessie) was strengthening to me, as were the many kind expressions sent by friends and family alike. I was touched by how many of my friends remembered the anniversary of her death and reached out to me with loving arms; it makes me want to be more mindful of and kind to others who need love and comfort.

Susan sent me this darling framed piece--a happy reminder of Mother's artistry in the kitchen--

that I placed in my kitchen here:

I made Buttermilk Bread on Thursday night and my Dad and I delivered it to three of Mom's close friends. Regrettably, I forgot to take any pictures. I made another batch on Saturday and we delivered loaves to a few ward members between General Conference sessions.

On Friday, after buying some beautiful roses, we drove to the cemetery to place them on Mother's grave.

Karen, Daniel (her husband, not pictured), John, and Sarah came along, too.

On the way home we had to pull over to take a picture of this sign we had spotted at a high-class establishment on our way to the cemetery:

Apparently, there wasn't enough room on the other side of the sign for the whole word.

Mom would have laughed, too.

I love you so much, Mom. I miss you terribly, but want you to know that I'm getting by--with a little help from my friends.